A Night of Tanka
by Sachiko V
Summary: In a pleasant night with sake, Tomomasa is inspired to write poetry on the miko and all Hachiyou...


**Title**: A Night of Tanka  
**Author**: Sachiko  
**Fandom**: Harukanaru Toki no Naka de  
**Rated**: PG  
**Pairing**: None, all Hachiyou  
**Spoilers**: None, I think XD  
**Notes**: Written for Kuruizaki's Tomomasa fanfiction contest.  
**Warnings**: Amateur poetry.

Written on 11/13/06

**Disclaimers**: Harukanaru Toki no Naka de and the characters belong to Mizuno Tohko and KOEI, only the plot in here belongs to me. This fic will not be used for any profits whatsoever.

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There's nothing he liked more than sitting in front of the porch and breathing in the beauty of the night. A dark night where the constellations sparkled clearly down upon the city of Kyo… accompanied by his sake bottle and prized fan. A long night like this certainly makes one think, and one sip speaks a hundred words of muse, leading from one thought to another.

But such an atmosphere would not have been possible if their lovely miko and her company did not grace Kyo with their presence. No, before, things would be as they always were, and he knew he would still be happy if nothing had changed. However… now that the people of Kyo had experienced pleasures they were unaccustomed to, moments that he knew would not last forever, one day they would be unhappy.

Tomomasa wondered how many actually thought of that day when the miko – the girl named Akane -, Tenma, and Shimon would leave their time. Why would they when everything was going on so well? He took a quiet sigh and shook his head. He mused. Yes, leave it to the adults to worry. He took another sip, and it tasted lukewarm. Just like the memories would be.

But the art of memory has its flaws, although the most convenient. A painting… a poem, or poems… he would do a lot more just to lock the moments. Poetry sounded nice. It went well with the dose of sake and the poised sound of koto played by one of the servants inside.

Tomomasa got up and took silent steps around the porch.

There the miko was with Fujihime, sitting outside and kindly brushing the princess's long graceful purple hair. Kotengu happily chewed on some rice biscuits while listening to their pleasant laughter. Tomomasa decided to just watch and maybe come greet them later.

"Sweet young priestess  
A spring flower to embrace  
Pure like the breeze  
Such strength to help buds bloom  
As she blooms from her heart…"

The chrysanthemum incense must have inspired the tanka(1) too. Beyond their wooden platform were the youngest Hachiyou members. Inori had what seemed to be a pocket dagger in his hands. The sheath was adorned with copper and polished stones and carved in calligraphy. On the ground laid other metalwork.

"These are some stuff sensei taught me how to make, but I still suck at it though. A dagger is what I managed to do on my own," Inori explained proudly.

Shimon's eyes widened. "Inori-kun, you're amazing...! While I'm journaling, you're out there making crafts like these."

"Hey," Inori delivered a playful punch to Shimon's head, "don't make it sound like they're toys!"

Watching, Tomomasa continued his compositions. He took one more graceful sip from his bottle, inhaling the cool air and tasting the golden bitterness.

"Golden and crimson  
Two sides of suzaku's wings  
Young bonded flames  
Lit from two separate worlds  
But burn as one growing fire…"

Fujihime turned to his direction. "Ah, Tomomasa-dono, I didn't know you walked by!" She then eyed the priestess. "Miko-dono is about to share a tale from her world to us. Would you like to come and listen as well?"

Tomomasa bowed his head to greet them. "I'm delighted to be invited by both lovely ladies, but I'll be back shortly. If it's alright with miko," he winked, "please retell the story to me then."

"Ah, of course!" Akane beamed and watched his sea-green hair drift away.

He proceeded and head toward the outside gates, where he found, with torches as light, Tenma and Yorihisa practicing sword fighting once more. It seemed like they've been doing it outside of the bushidan(2) a lot more often, and even from a distance, he could feel the intensity emitted from them. Tomomasa tapped his fan to his chin.

"Embodied colors  
A sunrise, and a sunset  
Teal heat of seiryuu  
Rooted in one jewel mind  
That is from warm devotion…"

Tomomasa laughed. That very heat could only be tamed, if not by the miko, within the two of themselves. He realized the sound of the sword clashing was beginning to feel much at home.

"You're getting better, Tenma!" Yorihisa said as both of them paused to catch their own breathes.

Sweat dripped from the younger boy's temples. "You better not be saying that just to make me feel good, 'cause I'm not buying the sweet talk!"

He exited the gate and strolled for a walk. From a distance, he could hear the serene melody coming from Eisen's flute at a close by forest near the monastery. He would recognize it, for it was not only a melody, but a spiritual amplification.

Tonight's was especially harmonious, because it would seem like the onmyoji was with him, chanting in a synchronized manner, becoming one with the song of the forest. Although Eisen would feel insecure about his own notes as compare to Yasuaki's, Tomomasa knew both of them were more spiritually strengthened than any of them. More than anything, their fondness for the miko and for everyone was incorporated into it.

"Pious face of genbu  
Colors of jade and iris  
Two gentle souls  
Spells needed for protection  
Melody carried in leaves…"

The sake bottle was nearly empty, and somehow it would be nice if he had someone to share these short inspirations to. Although, he still had Takamichi and himself to write out, though he would have only been able to do half of it. He decided to go out to see where the Takamichi would be or whether he'd be returning soon. Maybe in the meanwhile, he could start composing.

"How does one see oneself?" Tomomasa thought. As he passed by one of the places the two of them drink in before, a past comment popped into his head. Takamichi said once before that he had a hard time understanding him. Tomomasa knew his usual display definitely concealed what he'd be thinking of from others, though sometimes it concealed so well that he had to ask himself, "How do I see myself?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Tomomasa-dono, what are you doing out here?" It was the young scholar, who was carrying a stack of archives.

The older man smiled. "Just the person I want to see. You happen to have ink and paper with you, Takamichi?"

"After I drop these off at the treasury, I can surely get some for you. Would you like to join me for tea, or sake if it fits your taste more?" the young scholar answered.

"I would be delighted. Let's accompany the miko afterwards." He'd write about himself later, but for now, he'd write about who they were, the hachiyou who belonged with the Priestess of White Dragon.

"Link of sea and land  
The sturdiness of byakko  
Under the moon  
A land of intelligence  
A sea of wine and wits…"

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FIN.

(1) Tanka: "short poem"; a waka poem in thirty-one syllables, arranged in five 5-7-5-7-7 (or less) syllable phrases.

(2) Bushidan: warror band or group

Those who can catch how I came up with the images in the tankas, kudos for you


End file.
